


Somethings cannot stay hidden forever

by Nothing_can_last_forever



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Multi, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_can_last_forever/pseuds/Nothing_can_last_forever
Summary: Three months has passed since the battle with It, and Richie isn't doing well. Good thing that the Losers Club is looking out for him.





	Somethings cannot stay hidden forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, new fanfic since last year! Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not own It.

Beep, beep Richie! You'll float too! The needle burns as it tears through his lips, the blood dripping down his throat. It laughs as he cries, the tears scalding the bloody tears. As the clown reaches for his neck, talons stretching out, Richie wakes up, sobs still racking his body. The clock downstairs dimes three o'clock, and he knew that he wouldn't go back to sleep after that horrific nightmare. It had been three months since the Loser's Club had defeated the nightmarish clown, and still haunted Richie throughout the night. He hadn't even had it that hard, not compared to Bill, Bev and Stan. Still, Richie refused to talk to any of his friends, trying his ever hardest to keep his façade that had remained during the summer. Still, he could see the others had become worried, and continuously upped his game until it became more than second-nature, his trash mouthy, dickish attitude had overtaken him more than it had before. 

At around five, after Richie had thrown up in the toilet around three times in two hours, he started to get ready for school, sluggishly moving around the house, desperately trying to be quiet. The last time he had made noise, his father woke up and screamed at him. He wasn't in the mood to be called a faggot again by a man who hardly knew him. Looking into his reflection, all Richie could see was a gaunt face, dark hair contrast against ghost-like skin, and Coke bottle glasses, all which disgusted him to the core. He could boast all he liked, but he would never be as handsome or as wonderful as his friends are. Especially Eddie, his Eddie Spaghetti… No, get those thoughts out of my head! No, Richie wasn't gay, he liked girls, with their long hair, beautiful voices and nice curves, but sometimes he found himself gazing thoughtlessly at Eddie, with his alluring eyes and luscious hair. Okay, so I'm kinda gay for Eddie.

Shouldering his bag, Richie moves out of the house slowly, dragging his bike alongside him across the driveway before riding away, glad to be finally out of the hell-hole he called home. Knowing that the others wouldn't be up for an hour or so, he rides to the barrens, throwing rocks into the water and avoiding his reflection in the ripples the emerge. Growling as he glimpses himself, pale and haunted, he goes over to his spot where he keeps his equipment. Tossing off his hoddie, he picks up the small pocketknife and flips it open, rolling up his sleeves. None of the Loser's Club had noticed that since the fight with It that he had stopped wearing his bright Hawaiian colours, and he's determined to keep it that way. The scabbed cuts revolt him, but still he can't stop the bright red flowering on his forearms, cutting away his woes and pains. 

He savagely attacks his arms, torn skin blazing as salty tears and blood mixed, slowly dripping onto the grey rocks beneath him. Again, and again, until the knife is soaked, and the handle slips in his gasp. Swearing, he grabs his water bottle and washes the blood away, wetting his face to remove the tear tracks. The bandages in the bottom of his bag quickly come out, and he professionally, in his opinion, wraps them around his arms and quickly rides off to Stan's house, the meeting place for the Losers before school. The heavy autumn air hurts his lungs, and even taking the deep soothing breaths that Eddie had forced them all to learn couldn't even settle him. It felt like something primal had nestled into his stomach, squeezing the life out of him, holding him tightly in its grasp. But he can't let his friends see him like this, Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier needed to be the one alright, to hold the group together when they needed support, the one to crack the jokes and annoy the fuck out of his friends. 

Of course, he was the first one there, standing awkwardly whilst waiting for even Stan to exit his house. Even with the long shirt and hoodie, Richie still shivered in the cool wind, almost leaf-like. As the Losers Club gathers, he could swear that they stare at him, eyes blazing into his skull. Picking up on their gazes, Richie makes a joke about Eddie's mum, hand up for his non-existent high-five, but still they said nothing, not even Beep, beep Richie! The silence scares Richie, who tries to fill the gap to no avail. Stan then drags the now timid boy into his house, the other Losers following along. Instantly, Richie knows that this is an intervention, but what for he can't comprehend. With the curly haired boy gripping his aching arms, Eddie and Bill on either side of him, Bev, Mike and Ben backing them, there was nowhere for him to run to. So, he allows himself to be dragged into Stan's living room, with everyone crowding around them.

Gently, Eddie peels Richie's hands away from his arms, holding them in his own. With the same grace, Bill pulls up his sleeves, getting Ben and Mike to help him when Richie tries to fight against them. Seeing the bandages, they immediately start unwrapping them, seizing with fear with what is revealed to them. Immediately, they let him go, Beverly's cries startling them. Richie tries to run, but the normally peaceful Mike rugby-tackles him back into the couch, the stronger boy holding the other squirming boy down as Richie starts to panic. Seeing everyone crying sends Richie deeper into his third panic attack of the day, and it wasn't even fucking school yet! Eddie watches as Richie curls into himself, hands scratching the cuts raw, and immediately takes him into his arms. The others follow, wrapping themselves arounds the sobbing boy, trying to console him while not breaking apart themselves. Finally, after they all calm down, one by one until Richie was the only one still crying, do they ask.


End file.
